


Rolling Star

by Plasticgalaxy



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bount Arc, Bounts - Freeform, Death, Depression, F/M, Gen, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hueco Mundo, Pining, Renhime, Romance, Sadness, Unrequited Love, Winter War, bounto, confused feelings, implied IchiRuki, mild violence, one-sided ichihime, one-sided renruki, renjihime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plasticgalaxy/pseuds/Plasticgalaxy
Summary: The Bount have been defeated, and Ichigo is dead. Seireitei focuses their efforts on preparing for the winter war against the traitors in Hueco Mundo. While Orihime comes to grips with the loss of her friend and classmate, she must struggle to keep up with the others or be left behind. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, she finds comfort and support from the most unlikely source.(tags and ratings may change as I update)





	1. Life Support

**Author's Note:**

> In case this story seems familiar, it's a re-write of a fic I started a long time ago and posted to ffn. I've since deleted all my fics off ffn, but I've recently started re-watching Bleach and felt the desire to revisit this fic and finish it. Tags, warnings, etc., will be updated as I go.

“Ku… Kurosaki-kun?” Her timid voice wavered as she swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. No, it couldn’t be. The words coming out of Urahara’s mouth right now couldn’t be real. It had to be some sort of practical joke. With everything he’d been through, all the countless enemies he’d fought and hollows he’d vanquished, it was impossible. There was just no way Ichigo was…

“... Dead. I’m so sorry, Inoue-san.”

“N-no…” Her pupils dilated and she felt her pulse quicken with fear and uncertainty.

“I’m so sorry,” Urahara echoed quietly, reaching out a comforting hand. Orihime shrunk under his advance, her knees buckling beneath her as she backed against the wall of the shop. Her mind was spinning and it was hard to breathe. The entire universe made no sense at the moment. This had to be a dream. No, a nightmare. She pinched her thigh, and it hurt. Squeezing the flesh harder, she winced under her own self-torture. Her face began to grow hot. Urahara kept a slight distance, betraying no emotion, and looked on quietly as Orihime had her breakdown.

“There has to be s-something… I could… Maybe if I…” Each sentence tapered off with the threat of oncoming tears. Her eyes searched the floor for nothing in particular, and Urahara knew what she would ask even before it formed a thought in her own mind. As she tentatively touched one of her hair pins, her eyes met Urahara’s and she searched his soft, sympathetic expression for an answer. Any answer. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Could I at least…?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. He offered his hand again to help her to her feet, and she didn’t shy away from his touch this time. Even though she hadn’t outright said it, Urahara understood. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her towards a back room. He rapped a knuckle twice on the door before opening it, and gently ushered Orihime in ahead of him.

A body was laid on a bedroll in the middle of the floor, a white sheet draped over it. Renji and Rukia knelt along the far side. Still in shinigami form, they both looked tired and battered, their cheeks stained with tears. Renji rose to his feet out of surprise as their auburn-haired friend entered the room.

“Orihime…” Rukia half-whispered. 

“Inoue-san, please know that this may be upsetting,” Urahara urged quietly.

“I… I know. I was there.” Orihime stared down at the silhouette of a face under the sheet, her mind running rampant on what he would look like. The truth was, Chad had whisked her away from the scene before the final blows were dealt. But she had caught glimpse of  _ it _ before being carried away to a safe distance.

“Rukia, the sheet please.” Rukia shot a shocked and quizzical glance at Urahara as he made the request, but acquiesced when he nodded. Orihime gasped as the sheet was slowly folded down to the feet to reveal Ichigo’s cold, lifeless body. His bankai-style robes that clad him were shredded and stained with dried, caked blood. Zangetsu had been shattered in battle, and the wrapped hilt and the few shards that could be recovered were arranged neatly next to the body. But the most horrifying of all was his face, which Orihime could barely bring herself to look at. The cracked, brittle hollow’s mask had broken away from one half of his face, and his wide black eyes were rolled back in his head. His mouth was contorted into something between a grimace and a sneer. 

Orihime clamped a hand over her mouth. Rukia began to offer words of consolation, but they fell on deaf ears. Orihime knelt by the body’s side, frantically trying to wipe away the tears that started to flow of their own accord. Giving up, she collapsed onto the deceased Ichigo’s chest. For several weighted moments, the silence of the room was broken only by Orihime’s audible sobbing as her body heaved and shuddered.

“Maybe I… maybe there’s hope,” Orihime sniffled loudly as she gathered a sudden feeble resolve, and sat up. She summoned forth her Shun Shun Rikka, and a glowing golden shield formed over the body. After several minutes of Orihime quietly pleading with herself and at Ichigo, the shield dissipated. There was no change. Shun’o flew up to Orihime’s face, worry evident in her petite expression.

“I’m sorry, Orihime, there’s nothing we can do,” the tiny spirit apologized, “The hollow completely took over his body. His soul is unrecoverable.” She shook her tiny head, and returned with Ayame to their places on her hair pins. Orihime lowered her gaze to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“He just wasn’t strong enough,” Renji mused solemnly, “an’ Kariyah was too powerful. When Ichigo became a hollow and froze up, Kariya took that opening and killed him. An’ after that, he just exploded into a cloud of dust in midair.” Orihime felt her heart sink. It was true, Ichigo was gone. He wasn’t going to recover from this battle, he wasn’t coming back. He had been so important to her and to Rukia, to all their friends at school, even to Soul Society… what was going to happen now? How would life go on without him? She felt, in that moment, that she couldn’t go on without him. She couldn’t imagine a life without Ichigo in it, even if he never reciprocated her feelings for him.

“At least,” Rukia began, breaking the silence, “the bounts are no longer a problem. Now we can move forward and focus our efforts on--” She’d only been attempting to change the subject, to clear out the heavy cloud of despair in the room, but Orihime had cut her off.

“But at what cost?” The auburn-haired girl blurted incredulously through her tears. Rukia had been a good friend to her throughout the events of the past year, but her rush to move on and seeming indifference to Ichigo’s demise stabbed her right through the heart. Her wet eyes continued to overflow as she stumbled to her feet. “Kurosaki-kun, he was our friend. He was  _ my  _ friend. I… I…” Even in this raw moment of truth, she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. She couldn’t admit her true feelings for her former classmate, even when his body lay dead in front of her and it wouldn’t make a lick of a difference. Fear gripped her still. The fear of finding out whether or not Rukia shared her feelings for the former substitute shinigami dampened her thoughts and she choked on her words. At least she would never have to face which of the women Ichigo preferred; Orihime was sure it was Rukia, anyway. At this moment, her warm feelings of friendship and sisterhood for Rukia dissipated, and were replaced with a sting of hatred and remorse. After all, it was  _ her _ fault Ichigo was dead.  _ She _ was ultimately the reason for all of this horror.  _ If she had never come from Soul Society… _

“Orihime, I didn’t mean to--” Rukia started, reaching a hand out. Orihime began to back away, staring with disbelief and utter contempt at the female shinigami. A dainty hand reached towards her. The hand that gave Ichigo his powers. The hand that inadvertently snatched a full, promising life away from the high school boy now lying cold and mangled before her. “Please, Orihime…” Rukia pleaded, advancing. Before she could say anything else, Orihime turned and fled the room.

Rukia attempted to pursue her friend, but by the time she reached the front of the shop, Orihime was gone. Defeated, Rukia sighed as she slumped against the door frame.

 

* * *

It was nearly dusk by the time Renji and Rukia finally found Orihime. They had searched all over town -- in their gigai none the less -- and had happened upon her sitting by the river’s edge, her knees hugged to her chest. She idly picked at blades of grass, lost in her own melancholy thoughts, and oblivious to the presence of the shinigami nearby. Rukia smoothed her yellow dress and began to head towards Orihime, but Renji caught her arm.

“Maybe, uh, maybe we better leave her alone,” he suggested quietly. He recalled Orihime’s reaction from earlier. The fire of hatred in her eyes, the bite of hurt her words. Despite being written off as oblivious and foolish by most of Soul Society, Renji was actually more perceptive than people gave him credit for.

“What do you know, Renji?” Rukia bit back, wrenching her arm from Renji’s loose grasp. “She’s my friend, and it’s my duty to comfort her, after all we’ve been through.”

_ He was  _ my _ friend. I… I… _

“Rukia.” Renji recalled the pain in Orihime’s eyes as she choked back her confession. He knew. “You saw how she was when she left. I just don’t think she, ah, is feeling too friendly right now.” He could bicker with Rukia all day, but when it came to more serious stuff, he found it harder to talk to her. He scuffed his sneaker into the pavement as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Don’t be an idiot,” her retort stung him more than he’d like to admit, “I’m pretty sure she--” With a dismissive wave of her hand, Rukia turned away with intentions of rushing to Orihime’s emotional aid. Renji stopped her again.

“Just, let me handle it, alright?” He placed his hands comfortingly on her lithe shoulders and looked her square in the face. “You go check on the tall kid and the Quincy. Make sure they’re doing okay.” Rukia softened her stance. She didn’t have the heart to argue with Renji right now, and she could sense his uneasy determination. Though she had figured Orihime would have calmed down by now, she was willing to check up on Chad and Uryu instead. She’d realized her faux pas from earlier, but an apology could wait.

“Okay, Renji,” Rukia sighed, averting her eyes, “I’ll let you handle this.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “just don’t say anything stupid, okay?”

Though the comment was meant to be a harmless jibe, it cut Renji deep. Sure, he was a loud mouth and couldn’t fully get the hang of kidou, but did that really make him  _ stupid _ ? Renji had hated the name calling ever since they were urchins in the Rukon district, but he could never muster up the courage to let her know it hurt. Showing any emotional vulnerability was weakness, and those were roots that were older than his time in Zaraki’s squad.

“See you at the shop later, okay?” Rukia gave him a quick hug before taking off and jogging in the general direction of Chad’s apartment.

“Yeah, later,” Renji echoed, waving slightly. He watched her until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Glancing over to where Orihime was sitting, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The setting sun illuminated her long tresses in a warm glow, and a breeze picked up, making her locks dance and swirl around her. Shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, he shuffled over towards Orihime, approaching delicately.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. She looked up at him with mild surprise, not having expected any company, but quickly averted her gaze back to the river’s rippling surface.

“Hi, Abarai-kun,” she echoed.

“Mind if I sit with ya for a bit?” He offered a warm smile. Orihime returned a dry gaze to him for a moment, before closing her eyes and shaking her head politely.

“Not at all. I don’t mind.” Her eyes lowered as she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it idly between her fingers. Renji promptly plopped himself down on the grass beside her, keeping a respectful distance, and stretched his legs out as he leaned back on his hands. Orihime pulled her knees closer to her chest, dropping the grass blade and resting her chin on her folded arms.

“Just call me Renji,” he advised nonchalantly, gazing over the water’s surface and admiring the fiery colors reflected from the setting sun. 

“Okay, Renji-kun,” she murmured back. He opened his mouth to respond, but then thought better about fussing over formalities. They’d dealt with enough already that day, and the last thing he wanted to be was nit-picky or demanding. There was a long, awkward pause. It was only a few seconds, but to Renji it felt like an eternity.

“So uh,” he cleared his throat, effectively breaking the silence. “It’s kinda crazy, huh? Ya know, that he’s really gone.” Orihime sighed loudly, and the breathy sound rattled Renji’s spine. He instantly regretted opening his big mouth. Maybe Rukia was right, maybe he was just stupid. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said…”

“Renji-kun?” she asked timidly, gazing down at nothing in particular on the grass.

“What is it?”

“Um,” she picked nervously at a thread on her skirt, “where do shinigami go after they die?”

Renji thought for a moment. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure himself. He’d heard stories and rumors of souls being reborn as humans, and other beliefs that the spirit particles just disperse into the universe to fill in the gaps where they’re needed. The death of a spirit being that didn’t involve hollows or Hell wasn’t covered in the soul reaper academy, and he never really spent time wondering about the after-afterlife.

“Ya know… I really don’t know,” he replied thoughtfully, “There’re a lot of theories but no one really talks about it and no one knows for sure.”

“Oh.”

Silence enveloped them once again, broken only by the ambient noise of distant cars and the few children across the river laughing and yelling on their way home. By now, the sun barely peeked over the horizon.

“It’s gonna be strange,” Renji mused with a smirk, “who am I gonna  _ argue _ with now?” He cast his goofy grin sidelong at Orihime, who cracked a slight smile herself. The heated bicker-fests that the two men got into over nothing at all were often over the top, but amusing in hindsight. Ichigo had entirely too much pride and a hair-trigger reaction, and Renji consciously egged him on half the time. Orihime shook her head in amusement at the memories.

“Well, there’s always Rukia,” she suggested pointedly, “she seems to enjoy bickering as well. Especially with you.”

_ Rukia. _

“I dunno,” Renji huffed, blowing a few strands of crimson hair from his face. His smile faded, and it was his turn to avert his gaze from Orihime’s imploring stare, while nervously adjusting his headband. “It’s kinda complicated.” He was glad that Orihime seemed to no longer be harboring murderous feelings towards Rukia, but her keen observation smarted.

“Renji-kun?”

“I know how you felt about Ichigo,” Renji quickly changed the subject.

“W-wha…?” Orihime’s eyes grew wide, and her brain scrambled to string together words in defense of such a keen accusation.

“He was a real lucky guy,” Renji continued, “havin’ you around an’ all. You were fiercely loyal despite the odds, any lesser person would’ve tucked tail and ran a long time ago. Also your unique powers make you a really strong part of the team, even if you feel useless at times.” Renji saw a lot of his own loyalty to others reflected in Orihime. Unwavering loyalty. Blind loyalty. To people who didn’t deserve it and would probably never reciprocate it. “You’re a great person and Ichigo was a damn idiot to not see that in you.” Pausing, he took a deep breath. “I’m just sayin’ I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone who doesn’t return them.”

Orihime opened her mouth and abruptly closed it as she gazed admiringly at Renji. Up until that moment, she assumed he was just as two-dimensional as all the other boisterous men she’d encountered in Soul Society. She’d never have pinned him for the type to have a soft, emotional side.

“Renji-kun…” she murmured softly.

“Aw, c’mon. Stop starin’ at me like that.” Reaching an arm over to pull her into a rough sideways hug, Renji broke the increasing tension. “It’s gettin’ late. Can I at least walk you home?” The sun had finally dipped behind the horizon, it’s liquid gold blaze extinguished, and the remnants of pink and purple sky giving way to the dark, star-speckled heavens. Street lights began to blink to life.

Orihime rose to her feet, dusting off her skirt and smoothing the hem of her t-shirt. Renji followed suit, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I would appreciate that, Renji-kun,” she replied with a small smile.


	2. Musings

Renji arrived back at the shop much later than he’d expected. He also hadn’t anticipated Orihime inviting him in for tea, or spending the next several hours chatting the night away with her. Though Orihime’s overactive imagination got a little too weird at times, Renji felt refreshed. It was nice to have a conversation that didn’t end up in a yelling contest. The same old shit in Soul Society that revolved around alcohol, paperwork, Matsumoto’s breasts, and why one squad was superior to the next were topics that got stale about twenty years ago. The two of them laughed, cried, and reminisced about the unlikely merging of their worlds until the wee hours of the morning. Every time Ichigo was mentioned, which Renji tried to avoid at all costs, Orihime would smile sadly and gaze off, as if recalling a bittersweet memory.

It was sometime around three in the morning when Renji snuck in at Urahara’s, relieved to find the door unlocked. Jinta sat in the corner near the door to the back, glowering and muttering something about freeloaders. Normally, the comment would’ve set Renji off, but he was just in too good of a mood right now. He muttered a yawned greeting to the pint-sized redhead, and then made his way to his room-away-from-home. There was a note from Urahara taped to the door. It read:

 _Went to SS with Rukia and the body._  
_Could’ve used your help; Rukia isn’t much of a heavy lifter._  
_Be back in a few days.  
Give my regards to Inoue-san._

It was signed with a winking smiley face. Renji crumpled the paper up and tossed it to the side. He’d pick it up later, but now, sleep was overcoming him. Not even bothering to change out of his gigai, he pulled off his headband and sprawled himself haphazardly on the bed roll.

That night, his dreams were filled with mecha zombie ballerinas and winged red bean cakes. He slept soundly until late in the morning, missing breakfast and very nearly missing lunch.

Orihime, on the other hand, was having quite a rough night. Every time she drifted off for more than a few minutes, she would wake in a cold sweat from horrible nightmares that she couldn’t remember. Eventually, as the first rays of bright morning sunlight peeked through the window, she was able to sleep peacefully. Her slumber was cut short, however, by a loud knock on the front door. Orihime groaned and rolled over. _Maybe if I just ignore it, it will go away._

The knock came again, louder. Whatever _it_ was, it clearly wasn’t going away. A third knock had Orihime regretfully rolling out of bed. She threw a pink terry robe on over her pajamas, and shuffled towards the front door.

“Good morning, ‘Hime-chan!” Rangiku sang brightly as Orihime answered the door. Captain Hitsugaya accompanied her, looking much less thrilled than his vice captain.

“Good morning,” Orihime croaked. Her voice was hoarse from all the crying she’d done the day before.

“It’s so nice to see you!” Rangiku gushed, collecting Orihime up into a chesty bear hug.

“L-likewise,” Orihime stammered, faltering as Rangiku released her. “What are you doing here?”

“We were sent to the living world on official business…” Toshiro started, but he was interrupted by his vice captain.

“We sort of need a place to stay, do you mind if we crash here?” Rangiku leaned in and put on her best _pretty please_ face.

“Oh! Please, come in.” Orihime scurried to the side, beckoning welcome to the heads of the tenth division. Where had her manners gone? “I don’t mind at all if you’d like to stay. Please excuse me though, I didn’t sleep very well and I’m going to go back to bed for a bit.”

“Is everything alright?” Toshiro knew that Orihime’s undereye circles ran deeper than sleep deprivation, but they were under a strict gag order from Seireitei and forbidden to talk about Ichigo’s death. Orihime ignored his question, continuing to ramble on.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’d like!” Orihime shut the door as Rangiku sauntered into the kitchen and Toshiro surveyed the small living area. “Oh, except for the leftover tempura with wasabi bean sauce. I just don’t know how old that is, and it probably isn’t good anymore! I wouldn’t want either of you to get sick and--”

Toshiro held up a hand to silence her, and she stopped abruptly.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Inoue. You can go back to bed, we will do our best to avoid disturbing you.” With emphasis on _we_ , he shot a scathing glare at Rangiku, who was already rifling with piqued interest through the cupboards. Orihime laughed nervously, then bowed courteously before excusing herself to the bedroom.

No sooner had she gotten cozy under her blankets than a loud clanging and clattering of pots and pans started up from the kitchen. Orihime tried to muffle the sounds first with her blankets, then her pillow, but to no avail. There was a loud smash, followed by “MATSUMOTO!” and a “sorry, taicho!”

Why were these noises so amplified when she was trying to get some shut-eye? Orihime was sure the clamor would be much less intense if she were up, about, and well-rested. No, things were only louder when she was trying to sleep. _It must be a conspiracy,_ she decided. However, there was no way she was going to ask high-ranking members of the thirteen court guard squads - much less guests in her house - to act in a manner other than what was completely appropriate for daytime.

Orihime closed her eyes and rolled over, letting her thoughts wander. It had been days, nearly a week, since Ichigo’s incident with Kariya. The confirmation of his passing was only the day before, but it felt like a million years ago. Still, she was having a hard time coming to terms with his death. And then it came to her suddenly: everyone she loved was dying. _First Sora, now Kurosaki-kun_. Even her two best friends, Tatsuki and Chizuru, had had their dangerously close brushes with fate. _Because of me_.

She sighed and pulled the blanket up over her head as she heard the coffee grinder whir, and her mind drifted to other thoughts. _I wonder how Soul Society is going to cover this up_. She knew that in the past, Seireitei had altered the memories of Karakura’s residents regarding hollow attacks, and also when Rukia had left. Neither Chizuru or Tatsuki had even an inkling of what happened after school that fateful day when Orihime learned of her powers. Would they concoct some alternate memory for Ichigo’s disappearance? Or would they just erase him from everyone’s memory, as if he’d never existed in the first place?

Orihime pulled the blanket off her face and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. Would they erase _her_ memory of him? Surely her existence would be less melancholy as a result. But she felt more inclined to mourn his loss for the rest of her natural life than to have no recollection at all of “Kurosaki-kun.”

She quickly clamped her hands over her mouth, realizing that she’d said his name out loud. Had she been talking to herself the entire time? Dear god, she hoped not, and if she had, she wished no one had heard. But judging by the way the clatter and bickering from the heads of the tenth squad continued, Orihime was sure that her quiet babblings had gone unnoticed. She sighed.

Her thoughts began to wander again. She frowned, trying to recall how old that leftover tempura with wasabi bean sauce was. It was Tuesday’s dinner, for sure. But, was it the Tuesday before they’d left for Soul Society, or the Tuesday before that? Maybe it hadn’t been Tuesday at all, and it was from Monday instead. It was hard to remember, since time passed so differently in Soul Society. But dates aside, why were there _leftovers_? Wasabi bean sauce was absolutely delectable on tempura, and Orihime was sure that she would’ve finished every last bite of something so tasty. In any case, it was a matter she would have to figure out later.

Her last thought, before drifting into a dreamless sleep, was _I wonder what Tatsuki-chan is doing today_.


	3. Creep

Orihime had chosen that Sunday afternoon to visit the Kurosaki family grave and pay her respects. The sky was clear and the air was crisp, and a slight breeze blew every now and then. A sign that summer was ending. She sighed as she climbed the steps at the graveyard grounds; it had been two weeks to the day since Ichigo’s death, and it still felt so unreal.

A few people passed, coming and going. The faces looked familiar but Orihime only looked past them. Some were classmates, she knew for sure, but their names escaped her. One or two greeted her in passing, but she only replied politely and distantly.

She slowed her pace as she reached the grave, and her thoughts came back to earth again. At the moment, the only ones there were Ichigo’s father and his two sisters. Isshin stood by, puffing on a cigarette, while Yuzu wailed incoherently and clung to a rather melancholy-looking Karin.

For a moment, Orihime thought better of what she was doing there and meant to turn and flee. Isshin caught her eye and he gave her a small nod. She sucked in a deep breath and approached the grave, laying down a small bouquet of wildflowers she’d brought. There were a few other bouquets, several sticks of incense slowly burning, and various pictures of Ichigo in his life scattered around. Orihime took a silent moment of reverie as she glossed over the memories. As she rose and stepped back, she noticed that Isshin was still gazing sidelong at her. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew it out slowly, not removing his eyes from Orihime the entire time. She broke off the eye contact and took another step back as he began to approach her.

“It’s such a shame,” he finally said quietly, now nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. Karin had taken Yuzu for a walk to calm her down. No one else was around. Orihime glanced up at Isshin to find he was no longer studying her, but instead searching for nothing in particular in the near distance.

“K-kurosaki-sama?” Orihime swallowed a hard lump in her throat as she felt a sense of dread building up. After all,  _ she _ knew the truth, and she didn’t know what Seireitei had done about it yet, if anything at all. She was also well aware of her bad habit of tripping over words when she was nervous. Every other secret that had accidentally slipped out of her mouth in times of anxious word vomit seemed infinitely inconsequential to this one. In this moment, she feared that she would slip if she attempted to say anything at all.

“The plane crash near Okinawa,” Isshin replied knowingly, casting another piercing, sidelong glance at Orihime. “They deemed it an engine failure, I believe.” He sighed heavily. “They still haven’t found all the bodies yet.”

Orihime rocked slightly. So this is what Seireitei had come up with? A plane crash? The realness of Ichigo’s death began to sink in with this idea. Somehow, Ichigo dying in a plane crash seemed more believable to her than him having been beaten and slain in an epic battle against the leader of a centuries-old clan of vampire-like beings. While at odds with his own inner evil. In an alternate reality known as Soul Society. For a fleeting moment, Orihime doubted whether or not Soul Society actually existed, and if the whole thing had just been a figment of her own overactive imagination. She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, unconsciously touching a flowered hairpin along the way. It felt warm and reassuring.

“At least he’s with his beloved mother now.” Isshin took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking the butt to the ground and snuffing it out with the toe of his shoe. Orihime thoroughly doubted that happy notion. Ichigo’s mother, who had been human, was probably living peacefully somewhere in a district of Soul Society. Ichigo on the other hand… he was gone for good. There wouldn’t be a rebirth for him. Her thoughts went to the vivid image of the cold, warped expression on his lifeless body, fatally marred by the hollow’s grip, forever frozen in that moment.

Orihime’s morbid reflection was broken as Isshin wrapped her in a sudden hug.

“I know what you know,” he whispered to her, almost ominously, before giving her shoulders a quick squeeze and releasing her.

“Kurosaki-sama?” Orihime swallowed thickly.

“Take care of yourself, Orihime-chan,” was all the reply he offered as Karin and Yuzu returned from their walk to kneel before the family grave once again. Isshin returned to his daughters, smirking back at Orihime one more time. She stood there, agape, as the words sank in.  _ I know what you know. _ What did it mean? Was he some sort of psychic, and when he hugged her he was probing her mind for answers? Maybe he’d done that to all of their friends, picking the truth out of the few of them who knew.  _ No, that’s a ridiculous idea. _ Or maybe, just maybe, Isshin himself was a shinigami and knew all about Soul Society because he’d been there before.  _ Get real, that’s even less believable. _ Orihime shook her head, trying to get a hold on her wandering imagination.

“What a creep.” A gruff voice from over her right shoulder pulled her back to reality, and she spun around to face the source.

“Renji-kun!” Orihime exclaimed under her breath, surprised to see him. He was dressed down from his normal gigai attire, sporting a dark zip-up sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. The usual white headband was wrapped around his forehead, covering most of his tattoos. Stepping past Orihime, he laid a notecard and some flowers on the Kurosaki family grave, nodded respectfully at Isshin, and offered a few moments of silent honor.

Renji turned, and began to walk away. Orihime curiously followed.

“That guy’s a creep,” he advised, once they were out of earshot.

“Oh,” Orihime stopped for a moment, and then had to jog to catch up with Renji again. “You know him, Renji-kun?”

“Nope,” Renji replied nonchalantly, kicking a pebble as he walked, “but I just get that feelin’.” Orihime’s mouth pursed into a small circle, as she pondered the thought.

“You know, that’s Kurosaki-kun’s father,” she explained, realizing she’d fallen behind again. She ran up beside Renji, determined to keep in stride with him this time. “He’s a really nice man, and Kurosaki-kun’s sisters are nice as well. Karin is a really good soccer player, you know…”

“I still think he’s a creep.” Renji slid his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. They walked in silence for a while. Orihime had started to fall behind again, unable to efficiently keep up with Renji’s relatively quick gait or long legs. She found herself admiring his spiky ponytail, and the way it bounced when he walked. The thick, crimson hair seemed to almost defy gravity. Orihime imagined it developing sentience and taking flight, and giggled to herself, much louder than she’d intended. She covered her mouth to suppress another giggle as Renji glanced back questioningly at her.

Orihime was kind of enamored with Renji’s hair. It had personality. She wondered why he didn’t wear it down more often. It would help to hide his neck tattoos, which he preferred to do in public, and it was awfully pretty. Aside from Yumichika - who actually put effort into maintaining his hair - Orihime thought Renji had the nicest hair out of all of the men in Seireitei.

_ I wonder if Renji-kun ever had short hair. _ After trying to picture him with a buzz cut, and failing miserably, she pulled her own hair up into a similar ponytail and skipped up next to him.

“By the way, where are we going?” she asked innocently.

“We?” Renji halted in his tracks, and his brow knitted in confusion. “Well, I was on my way to Urahara’s. To train and whatnot.”

“Oh.” Orihime grimaced embarrassedly. She hadn’t intended to follow Renji like a lost puppy. “Um, can I come with you?” Realizing she probably looked ridiculous with the high ponytail, she quickly pulled the elastic hair tie out.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Renji shrugged, scratching thoughtfully at the back of his head.

“You… don’t mind, do you?” Being a useless burden was something that Orihime had grown painfully aware of in the last several months. The last thing she wanted was to impose herself where she wasn’t invited.

“Nah, not at all. C’mon.” Renji flashed a lopsided grin as he gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. They began walking again, and he slowed his pace considerably, mindful of keeping Orihime at his side. It would keep her from mocking him behind his back, and he rather enjoyed the conversation she provided.

Orihime began to talk about a movie she’d rented recently. Even though they were objectively bad, campy horror films were amongst her favorites. The older they were and the lower the production budget, the better. Renji could count the number of movies he’d seen on one hand - they didn’t have that kind of “mindless drivel” in Soul Society - and he didn’t quite  _ understand _ horror, but Orihime’s enthusiastic descriptions kept him entertained.

She became more animated as she described the plot of the film. Renji was lost on whatever a “Necronomicon” and an “S-Mart” were, but he watched Orihime’s reenactments with a degree of amusement. She was so wrapped up with enlightening Renji to the wonders of b-movies that she hadn’t noticed they’d stopped walking.

“It’s the third in the ‘Evil Dead’ series,” she explained, and the title brought images of hollows to Renji’s mind. He tilted his head slightly, and his ponytail swished to the side. “And then there’s… why are you staring at me like that, Renji-kun?” Orihime suddenly became excruciatingly self-aware.

“We’re here,” he answered with a warm smile, motioning to the familiar storefront ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that Orihime mentions somewhere in the anime that she likes comedy movies. But I could really see her liking campy horror. I hope that doesn't break her character too much for anyone. XD


	4. Stronger

Orihime watched with fascination from a safe vantage point as Renji and Urahara battled fiercely. Urahara pulled the brim of his bucket hat down over his eyes and flew in for another attack. Renji’s bare torso glistened with sweat as he effectively blocked the hit. Benihime screamed and bolts of kidou sliced through the air. Zabimaru lashed out, destroying a boulder. Pieces of rock and debris exploded out. And when the dust settled, Urahara and Renji were still at each other with intense ferocity.

Orihime could watch them train all day and night for a hundred thousand years, and it would never cease to captivate her. Such as it was, she’d been going to Urahara’s every day after school for the past three weeks, just to watch the training. In fact, she only returned home to shower and sleep, and would deftly avoid Rangiku’s questions about where she’d been spending all her time. She would pack lunch to bring to school, and would eat dinner at Urahara’s. And while Jinta continued to loudly harp on Renji for being such a freeloader, the kid turned a blind eye to Tessai offering Orihime plates upon plates of freshly-cooked food.

She would complete her homework intermittently while watching training sessions, or with Chad when he stopped by twice a week for his training sessions. His raw powers were so similar yet different from the shinigami’s, and Urahara was helping him develop something new. Yoruichi would sometimes stop by to fight, and Orihime was enamored with her grace and agility. Rukia was back to masquerading as a high school student and staying at the Kurosaki household, so she would come by later in the afternoons for her training.

At a certain point every day, Renji and Rukia would train together. It would go strong for a while, then always devolved the same way: a slip-up, a wrong word, a derogatory name. It would escalate into a sidetracked spat over some minor technicality, and then a low blow at Renji’s unrefined kidou skills. Under Renji’s prideful defense was an unrequited love and admiration screaming for attention. Rukia couldn’t - or wouldn’t - pay it heed. It would always end the same, every single time, without fail. They’d walk away from each other, the end of a lover’s quarrel, Renji so agitated that his body would shake. He’d go skulk off to punch the shit out of something while Rukia entertained herself with solo training. In the best case scenario, Renji wound up with bloody knuckles. Orihime insisted on healing his flesh and bones, but nothing she could do would mend his bruised ego or broken heart. 

This particular time, Renji had used a sizeable resident boulder as his punching bag. He hit it as hard as he could over and over again, alternating fists. With each blow he swore loudly, angry tears pooling in his eyes as the untamed reiatsu flowed visibly from his body like an angry tornado. Even as the rough sandstone crumbled away under his strikes and tore away pieces of his skin and flesh, Renji continued. He would not stop until he’d been completely stripped of his frustration.

“Don’t worry about it, Orihime, he’s always been like this,” Rukia mentioned quietly as she passed, heading upstairs. “He can’t handle not being the best, and he’s got a short temper.”

It didn’t help that tensions were increased since the arrancars first made contact with the real world. Urahara believed it was a scouting mission, based on the brevity of their visit, but they’d done a lot of damage in that single hour. Orihime managed to save Tatsuki from what would’ve been a fatal blow from the huge arrancar, but she and Chad were nearly killed themselves trying to counterattack. Urahara and Yoruichi had swept in just in time, sustaining a few injuries themselves, and it was only then that the arrancar retreated into their gateway back to  to Hueco Mundo. 

Orihime healed fast, thanks to Tessai’s care, and had only a few small bumps and bruises to show for it a week later. She thought about Rukia’s words as Renji was wearing down, bloodied and tired. He turned and began to sulk towards the stairs. Orihime beckoned at him from her vantage point, and where he’d normally refuse her healing until she loudly insisted, he didn’t even put up a fight this time. He sat in front of her, holding out his swollen, bleeding hands. Orihime said nothing as she summoned out her healing shield, enveloping Renji’s massacred paws in the warm, regenerating glow.  The blood began to coagulate and flake off. The swelling receded, and bones slid back into place. Before long, Renji’s hands were as good as new, and he thanked Orihime deeply and humbly.

“Renji-kun?” Orihime had a question she’d been itching to ask since the arrancar incident. Only now, though, had she mustered up the courage to actually ask.

“Yeah?” He clenched and flexed his right hand, watching as the newly taut tendons danced under the skin. Not even looking up, he repeated the process with his left hand.

“I-I was wondering, could… could you…” She hesitated, picking nervously at the hem of her school skirt.

“Just spit it out,” Renji demanded coldly, clearly still in a foul mood. He was looking at her with an expression of mild disdain, and Orihime suddenly had second thoughts about asking. Maybe now wasn’t the best time. She would only be a burden, as it seemed was her destiny. She lowered her gaze, but a sharp “Well?” recaptured her attention.

“Please, teach me how to be strong,” she blurted, and instantly wished she hadn’t. The million times she’d practiced the request in her head, it hadn’t sounded nearly as small and helpless as it did now.

“Teach you how to be strong?” Renji echoed, his tone almost sounding like a scoff. His face betrayed no emotion as Orihime nodded meekly. “Why?”

Orihime froze. Out of all the crazy scenarios that had played out through her head repeatedly, this wasn’t one of them. It hadn’t even come close to anything she’d expected him to say. She hadn’t practiced for this response.  _ What do I say to that? _ Before she could formulate an articulate answer, her mouth was moving of it’s own accord.

“I want to be strong and useful, Renji-kun. Like you. Like Rukia, Yoruichi-san, Sado-kun. Like everyone else. I’m just a burden all the time, useless, because I’m weak.” Her eyes cast themselves downward as they threatened tears. “When we were in Soul Society rescuing Rukia, I couldn’t help at all. Ishida-kun took care of me the entire time, and I ended up being useless.” She paused, clenching her fists and taking a deep breath. “I was a burden for Kurosaki-kun as well. Even though I can’t fight, I always tagged along. He always ended up trying to protect me, and he got hurt because of that. Because of me.” She swallowed hard, fighting back the stinging in her eyes. “Renji-kun, I don’t want to be a burden anymore.”

Renji sighed heavily, his expression softening. “Sorry Orihime, I can’t do that.” He shook his head, and her heart sank. “Real strength isn’t just muscles or the ability to hit someone really hard. Being strong is nothin’ without resolve behind it. If you don’t have that will, it just ain’t gonna happen.” He took Orihime’s hands and squeezed them gently in his own. “You’re not useless, Orihime. You’ve got this crazy amazing healing ability that no one else has. Look, if y’want, you can train with me. But ya gotta form your own resolve. I can’t help you with that. Understand?”

“Thank you, Renji-kun,” Orihime nodded solemnly but eagerly, “and yes, I completely understand. I would very much like to train with you.” Renji smiled, the first time he’d genuinely done so all day. He squeezed Orihime’s hands again, then rose to his feet, pulling her up with him.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Now?” she squeaked, wide-eyed.

“D’ya wanna train or not?”

“Y-yes, I do.”

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

Renji and Orihime stood several yards apart, facing each other.  _ I can do this, _ Orihime reassured herself, standing a little taller with attempted self-esteem.  _ I can fight. I won’t be weak anymore… I  _ refuse _ to be weak anymore. _

“Don’t take it easy on me,” Orihime called out, “just because I’m a girl and stuff!”

“Hah!” Renji sneered, raising his zanpakuto. “I don’t take it easy on Rukia, do I?”

“Okay, well…” Orihime shifted her weight, and tightened her obi. Urahara had loaned her a spare  kimono and hakama, but they were baggy on her. “Don’t take it easy on me because I’m a human!”

“Deal!” Renji shouted. “You better not let your guard down!” He gave her only a moment before he was charging at her, and the next thing she knew, he was slashing away at the protection shield she’d barely summoned in time. He jumped back, releasing Zabimaru’s shikai form. Orihime caught her breath, and poured more determination into her shield. It glowed a little brighter.

Renji swung his tendoned katana around, attacking Orihime from all sides. She successfully blocked every hit, but only barely. She was having second thoughts about this. Renji was just way too strong, way too fast.

“Fight back!” he roared at her, whipping the segmented blade in her direction. Orihime blocked it, but it pushed angrily against her shield. Her feet slid back in the loose dirt.

“I… can’t…” Her resolve was shattering, and she fought to keep her shield up.

“Fight me, damn it!” Reiatsu poured out, beating in a hot wave against her shield. Her legs threatened to buckle and she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.

“I don’t… want… to hurt… anyone…” Orihime gasped for air, struggling to stay on her feet and pouring every ounce of her dwindling strength into the shield. Zabimaru pushed harder, causing the shield to start cracking like a glass pane hit by a sharp pebble. Renji looked wild, and Orihime feared for herself. She couldn’t keep the shield up forever; it was already draining too much of her energy.

_ I’m sorry, Renji-kun. I can’t be strong after all. _ The weight of Renji’s reiatsu forced Orihime down to her knees, and pieces of her shield began to chip away and dematerialize. If she was lucky, she would have a few seconds before Zabimaru breached the shield and split her in two. She closed her eyes and thought about Ichigo. He fought to protect her, even when his own life was on the line. Then she thought about Rukia, laughing, jibing, bossing everyone around. Rukia, who ultimately had Ichigo’s blood on her hands. Rukia, responsible for Renji’s unwarranted pain and suffering.  _ Rukia. _

A sudden fire burned in her gut, and a flash of light flew out, slicing Renji upwards across the chest. Blood sprayed out from the gash and he staggered backwards, yanking Zabimaru back.

“Renji-kun!” Orihime immediately dropped her shield and stumbled to her feet towards him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-” Suddenly a hand was at her throat. It gripped at the collar of her kimono, lifting her off the ground.

“I told you, don’t let your guard down,” Renji growled, tightening his grip. 

“R-Renji-kun… please… stop…” Orihime choked out pleadingly, as she clawed helplessly at his wrist. Her momentary spark had extinguished itself, and there was a fiery bloodlust in his eyes she’d never seen before. He was like a wild beast that had been caged his whole life, and was just let loose to make his very first kill. He was the predator, she was the prey.

“No,” Renji’s mouth curled into an ugly sneer. “You’ll have to make me.”

“Y-you’re hurting me…” Orihime gasped for air, pulling at his iron fingers, writhing desperately. The thick wall of reiatsu that surrounded Renji felt like it was crushing her lungs.

“Fight back!” Renji roared, shaking the poor girl by her throat. Orihime made a few weak attempts to call out Tsubaki, but the attacks had no effect. She had no killing intent behind them, and her will was weak. Tsubaki was merely an annoying fly and Renji flicked him away with ease.

_ Renji-kun’s gone crazy. _ Orihime started to panic inwardly.  _ I’m going to die like this. I… I can’t die. Not here… not like this… _ She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. She envisioned Rukia again, calling her names. Death meant you were too weak to survive. Pleading, crying, giving up… those were all signs of weakness. She came to the startling realization that her weakness was self-imposed this whole time. Orihime wouldn’t be weak. Not anymore.

As Orihime fought the dark oncoming threat of unconsciousness, Tsubaki flew up with renewed vigor and carved across Renji’s wrist, causing him to hiss a curse and release his grip. Orihime fell to the ground, coughing and rasping, and raised her protective shield just in time to block a devastating blow to her midsection. There was another flash, and suddenly Renji was weaponless. Zabimaru, now back in normal katana form, clanged to the ground several feet away. Renji was covered in several new cuts, and he was almost completely covered in his own blood. His hakama pants were torn and dirty. He yelled out a kidou incantation and a bolt of bright white thundered towards Orihime, but she deftly deflected it into a nearby cliff face. It exploded and pelted her with dust and pebbles.

Orihime’s nose was bleeding severely now. She had never used this much of her own power before, and it heavily taxed her physical body. Tsubaki hovered protectively nearby, waiting for the next attack command. Renji took a step forward before falling to one knee, and Orihime backed away cautiously, not taking her eyes off him. She stumbled and collapsed, and Tsubaki retreated to her hairpin. She and Renji were both breathing heavily, and she knew that if things continued like this, at least one of them would be dead within the next hour.  _ Probably me. _

Renji’s carnal reiatsu flow stopped abruptly, and Orihime staggered to her feet. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, and he was approaching her with a warm, satisfied smile on his blood-stained face.

“I think you’re starting to get the hang of it,” he mused, wiping blood from his forehead. “I’m really glad you didn’t give up, Orihime. C’mon, let’s go wash up and get something to eat.”

* * *

Eighteen bowls of rice, twelve teriyaki chicken cutlets, five and a half bowls of udon soup, an entire tube of pre-made wasabi paste, and one hell of a sushi platter later, they were full. Renji felt downright inadequate; Orihime had eaten nearly one and a half times as much as he had. Tessai offered more, but neither one could eat another bite.

Without prompt, Orihime scooted around the table to sit next to Renji. Her energy renewed, she summoned forth the healing shield around him. After a few moments, she scooted closer, and expanded the soten kisshun to envelop the both of them together. After all, she had sustained a few of her own injuries, though they weren’t as bad as the ones she’d inflicted on Renji. For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the clattering of dishes in the kitchen as Tessai cleaned up and the bickering of Jinta and Ururu as they swept outside.

“By the way, I’m sorry for hurtin’ ya,” Renji apologized, studying Orihime’s serene expression as she concentrated on her healing. Her hair fluttered slightly in the glowing energy, and Renji likened it to delicate flames. She opened her eyes, which now seemed to glow amber in the light of the healing aura, and looked peacefully up at his face.

“It’s okay, Renji-kun,” she replied softly, “don’t worry about it.”

“R-really?” Renji watched as the ripped skin on his arms seamlessly closed up. “I just feel kinda bad, ya know. I went really hard on you, even though I didn’t think you were gonna be able to fight back.” Orihime betrayed a moment of hurt in her expression, but then smiled broadly.

“Don’t feel bad, Renji-kun,” she reassured, closing her eyes again. “You really helped me. I became stronger.”

Suddenly, Orihime appeared to Renji as a different person, though she hadn’t even moved. It was as if she had shed the facade of a timid, awkward school girl and blossomed into the fierce but gentle and compassionate warrior princess that she was destined to be. Ichigo really was lucky for having her in his life. From what Renji could tell, she was the most loyal friend anyone could ask for, kind, selfless, and caring. Sure, maybe she had a few screws loose upstairs, and maybe she did have a penchant for strange, sometimes unpalatable food combinations, but those were a part of what made her so unique. Her seemingly useless powers had brought so many back from the edge when no one else could help. And through all the hardships she’d endured in her life, she was still able to face the world with a smiling face and a light heart. Renji realized, for the first time since meeting this quirky human, that she didn’t need anyone’s help in becoming strong. She was  _ already _ strong.

Before he knew what he was doing, Renji had leaned in and fervently pressed his lips against Orihime’s slightly parted ones. It took her a good few moments to grasp what was happening, but once she realized, the shield instantly dissipated and her eyes grew wide.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, pulling away - almost reluctantly - from the kiss.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Renji scrambled to his feet, shaking the clouds from his brain. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Shit. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.” He turned on his heels and hurriedly left the room, cursing himself the entire way.

“Wait! Renji-kun!” Orihime called after him as she heard a door slam. “I haven’t finished healing you yet!” She quickly rose to her feet and attempted to follow him, only to find that he’d locked himself in the spare room. “Renji-kun? Please open the door,” she pleaded, tapping lightly on the bamboo wood panes.

“Just… just go home,” his miserable voice called back, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

“Renji-kun,” she sighed, realizing that trying to change his mind would be a futile attempt. He had been in the 11th squad once, and had a will of steel and was more stubborn than a mule. Orihime felt like her heart was going to explode. She wanted to say everything and nothing all at once. She wanted to kiss him again, but maybe not really, but oh, what were these feelings?

For a fleeting moment, Orihime thought about spending the night at Urahara’s, camping out until Renji would emerge out of necessity. She quickly thought better of the idea as she heard the water in the kitchen shut off and Tessai’s footsteps could be heard coming her way. Besides, Rangiku was probably wondering where she was, and it was getting late. She grabbed her school uniform and books and left without saying a word. Not even to Urahara, who was rearranging stock in the shop front and curiously asked where she was headed as she ran out the front door with a stinging blur in her eyes.


	5. Confessions

There came a light knock on the door. Orihime sighed as the answer to the complex math problem she was working on fleeted from the edge of her thoughts. Her gaze drifted over to the clock; it was 10:41. With her homework little more than halfway done, Orihime knew there was no way she was going to get a decent night’s sleep tonight. She considered skipping on the homework altogether, but then her teachers would know something was wrong when she didn’t hand her assignments in. Or worse yet, Tatsuki would start asking serious questions. The raven-haired girl had already grown suspicious, but Orihime had successfully deflected all the inquiries so far. She didn’t want her best friend to worry.

“Come in,” Orihime called out, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes. Glancing back at the math problem, she frowned. It made even less sense than it did before. She heard the door click open, but she didn’t bother to turn around. She knew who it was.

“Hime-chan,” Rangiku cooed, sauntering over with a steaming mug in each hand, “I made you some hot cocoa.” Orihime began to politely decline, but Rangiku thrust the chocolatey drink in her face. “I  _ insist. _ ”

“Thank you, Rangiku-san. You’re too kind.” Orihime accepted the mug and placed it on her desk next to the mess of papers and books. The smell of of sweet, liquid milk chocolate wafted past her nostrils and gave her a fleeting sense of comfort.

“You look like you could use some help, Hime-chan,” Rangiku seated herself on the edge of the bed, sipping complacently from her mug. “Is something bothering you?”

“Yes, actually,” Orihime shuffled through her papers. “My math homework. I just can’t seem to get it.” She offered the half-completed sheet to Rangiku, who glimpsed down at it with a degree of aversion.

“Oh, no…” The busty shinigami gently pushed away the offering with a chuckle. “I’m no good at math, myself.” Orihime replaced the worksheet on her desk. “I meant  _ personally. _ You’ve been coming home right after school for the past three days, you can’t seem to concentrate on anything - well  _ that _ really isn’t anything new - and you’ve had absolutely no appetite. Something is definitely up with you, Hime-chan. You know I don’t like secrets.” Rangiku smiled warmly at her and leaned forward with both hands on her mug, eager for a confession.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Orihime lied, forcing a smile and a cheery giggle, “I’m perfectly fine! School has just been tough lately, you know, midterms and all coming up. I just don’t have all that time to be wasting at Urahara-kun’s store when I should be studying…”

“So  _ that’s _ where you’ve been going after school this whole time!” Rangiku exclaimed deliciously, crossing her legs. Orihime quickly grabbed up her cup of cocoa to occupy her blabbering mouth. She was exhausted, and was doing that thing where she told on herself before her brain could carefully process the words. The drink was still hot and burned her mouth as she hastily drank it.  _ Punishment, _ Orihime thought bitterly towards her scalded tongue,  _ punishment for talking too much. _

“C’mon, tell me everything,” Rangiku demanded, and when Orihime hesitated, the blonde set down her mug and pulled the desk chair right up to her. “Don’t make me tickle it out of you,” she threatened with wiggling fingers.

“No!” Orihime shrieked, waving her free hand defensively as the other one clutched tightly to the mug of cocoa. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! Just  _ don’t _ tickle me, please!” Rangiku sat back with her arms crossed, a mischievous grin consuming her face.

_ What do I say? _ Orihime thought dreadfully.  _ Do I tell her about the training? About Renji-kun? No… I can’t talk about that. She’ll tell Toshiro-kun everything.  _ She averted her gaze as she took a deep breath, trying to carefully piece together a believable excuse.  _ Worse yet, what if she blabs to Renji-kun about it? Or if she tells Rukia… it’ll just be a disaster. Oh no, what should I say? _

“Tch.” Rangiku flipped her hair, miffed at Orihime’s reluctance. “You’re afraid I’ll gossip to taicho, aren’t you?” Orihime nodded meekly. “Well, whatever’s going on stays between you and me, Hime-chan. I promise.” She reached forward and gave Orihime a reassuring pat on the knee.

“Well, okay.” Orihime sucked in another deep breath and picked her words very carefully. “Have you… have you ever been confused about your feelings… for someone?”

“No,” Rangiku replied dumbly.

“Oh,” Orihime blinked. “Well, um… there’s kind of this guy.” She decided it would be best to start off vague.  _ Vagueness is good. If I’m being vague enough, she can’t figure out who I’m talking about. And then I can avoid  _ that _ whole mess. _

“Mmhm. Tell me more about him. Is he handsome?” Rangiku leaned her elbows on her knees and propped her chin up in one hand. Orihime smiled as a vision of this particular guy slipped into her mind. His gravity-defying ponytail, his striking tattoos, rippling muscles, soulful eyes…

“Yes, very handsome,” she mused, lost in thought. “He’s funny and strong and, well, he isn’t a genius, but he can be pretty smart sometimes. He’s got long, beautiful hair, and he’s a good listener, and particularly likes when I tell him all sorts of things about the living w-” Coughing, she quickly corrected herself. “Living dead. Night of the Living Dead. It’s a great movie that he hasn’t seen yet.” Orihime hoped Rangiku hadn’t caught her blunder.

“So… you like him, right?” Rangiku had been keen on the slip, but pretended not to notice. She also pretended not to notice the way Orihime’s face softened when she talked about the guy, the way her eyes looked a little dreamy and the tone of her voice got a little wistful. Rangiku’s lips curled knowingly; she’d already deduced the identity of this mystery man. In fact, she had figured it out right around the time Orihime had mentioned Urahara’s. There was only one particular someone who fit the description of ‘handsome, funny, and strong with long, beautiful hair.’

“I… I don’t know,” Orihime thoughtfully traced the lip of the cocoa mug with a finger. “I think I like him. I mean, I definitely  _ like _ him but I don’t know if I  _ like  _ like him. And I think he likes me, but, it’s confusing. I think he may like someone else. But that someone else doesn’t really like him back and doesn’t treat him very well.”  _ Rukia. _ Orihime gritted her teeth for a moment, but the knot in her gut passed with the thought.

Rangiku frowned. “Why is it confusing? Either he likes you or he doesn’t. Men are pretty easy to read. I wouldn’t worry about the other girl, really. As long as he’s not ridiculously stupid - and if you ask me, I don’t think he is - he’ll realize she’s not all that good for him.” She felt a little bad dismissing Rukia like that, but she didn’t think this guy should be all wrapped up in the noble nonsense, either.

“He… he kissed me the other day,” Orihime murmured, lost in thought again. Rangiku did her best to suppress her surprise. “But then he said he was sorry, and that it was a mistake. That he didn’t want to hurt me.” She sighed as she gazed down into her mug, and then sipped at the now lukewarm cocoa. “I haven’t seen him since then.”

“I think…” Rangiku yawned, leaning back on her hands, “...that you  _ do  _ like him. And from the sound of it, I think he likes you back.  _ And, _ ” she waggled a finger at Orihime, “I think you need to tell him how you feel. You’ll just end up stuck in your feelings if you don’t.”

“I-I don’t know,” Orihime stammered, balking at the idea of boldly telling someone she liked them. It had never been her strong suit. “I just don’t think it would work out.”

“Why not?”

“Because erm... he’s from…”  _ I can’t say Soul Society, because then Rangiku would know. _ So instead, she blurted out the first foreign country that she could think of. “He’s from France.”  _ That was so stupid. _

“France?” Rangiku raised an eyebrow, stifling an outburst of laughter. “Well, he’s here now, right? And if things get, you know,  _ serious _ … France is only a…  _ plane ride  _ away.” She yawned again and then rose from the bed. “C’mon, Hime-chan, it’s late.” She took Orihime by the hands and lifted her out of the chair, then hugged her tightly.

“You need to stop second-guessing yourself, Hime-chan,” Rangiku said softly, releasing Orihime from the hug and holding her for a moment at arm’s length. “You’re a beautiful, strong person, and whomever you choose to be with is a very, very lucky man.”

“R-really?” Orihime began to blush. Rangiku nodded definitively in response. “B-but… what about my homework?” She glanced at the mess of papers, then at the clock. It was already after 11:30. Rangiku scooped up Orihime’s folded pajamas from the foot of the bed and dumped them in her arms.

“Don’t worry about your homework. Taicho and I will take care of it.” Before Orihime could even protest, Rangiku collected the books, papers, and the two empty mugs, and sauntered out of the room. Somehow she managed to close the door behind her, even with her arms full.

* * *

“Taicho~! I have something for you to do~o!” Rangiku sang, unloading the books and papers in front of him on the living room table. It took Toshiro by surprise, and he nearly choked on his tea. “Can you finish Hime-chan’s homework for her?”

“Homework…?” Toshiro shot his vice captain an icy glare.

“Please, taicho?” Rangiku pouted pathetically. “She’s had a rough time of it lately and wasn’t able to finish it all before going to bed. It would really mean a lot to her.”

“Fine.” He let out an exasperated sigh, knowing that any attempt to resist would be futile, and began scanning over the unfinished math homework.

“By the way, taicho…” Rangiku leaned over, her face plastered with amusement. Toshiro closed his eyes with knitted brows.

“What is it, Matsumoto?” He braced for it, knowing it would be something ridiculous. It was always something ridiculous when she grinned like that. Rangiku could barely contain herself, and leaned in closer to her captain, beaming even more.

“Did you know that vice-captain Abarai is French?”


	6. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time since my last update, sorry to the few of you who have been following this story so far! I've gotten to the point in my re-write where my original turned into a self-indulgent self-insert fantasy, so I'm trying to rein it in and make it slightly more true to the characters LOL.

As the day dragged on, Orihime found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her classes. A certain red-haired shinigami kept creeping back into her wandering thoughts, drawing her away from life and into the dream world that she so often inhabited. At first, she thought Rangiku’s advice was silly, and firmly told herself that she would pay no heed. During lunch, she was second-guessing her ironclad decision, and by the end of the school day, she had changed her mind completely.

_ It’s decided, then.  _ Orihime headed determinedly towards the schoolyard.  _ I’m going to go right on over to Urahara’s shop, I’m going to find Renji-kun, and I’m going to tell him that I have a crush on him. _ After all the analyzing she’d done in the past several hours, that was what she determined it to be: a crush. It was the way his ponytail swished to the side when he intently listened to her describe her favorite movies that made her smile. The way he scrunched up his face when he was confused that made her giggle. The way his laughter rang out at her lame puns that made her stomach flutter. And the way he’d kissed her - oh the way he’d  _ kissed _ \- that made her knees weak when she recalled it.

Just a simple crush. Besides, what was the worst that could happen after she told him?

Orihime stopped dead in her tracks at the thought, much to the dismay of several students who were planning on using the doorway she was now blocking. After a few protests, she murmured an apology and moved to the side, still in shock. How, she wondered, had she not considered the dissenting alternative?  _ What if he doesn’t like me back? _ She shook her head.  _ No, that’s ridiculous. Why should I care? It’s not like I’m in  _ love _ with him. _ Her internal monologue paused.  _ No, no I’m not. But… what if he stops talking to me? Well, it’s not like he’s really talking to me now. What if… what if Rukia finds out? _ Hell scenario after hell scenario continued to run rampant in her mind. The gusto and determination she’d carried as she’d left her classroom had now fizzled away into nothing.

“Hey, Hime!” A voice broke through her panicked thoughts and brought her back down to earth. Orihime looked up and saw her best friend approaching her.

“Hi, Tatsuki-chan,” she greeted, attempting to mask her anxiety.

“Do you want to go get some ice cream with me?” Tatsuki asked casually.

“Yes,” Orihime replied nearly immediately and a little too eagerly. She desperately needed a distraction at the moment and the opportunity was providing itself. Tatsuki raised an eyebrow. “I mean, sure. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. I just haven’t seen much of you since… you know…” Tatsuki’s smile faded as her voice trailed, and she gazed off into the distance for a moment before collecting herself. “I just missed you.” She grabbed Orihime into a brief hug, and then the two began across the nearly empty schoolyard together.

Orihime smiled, genuinely. “I missed you too, Tatsuki-chan.”

As the two girls headed into town for ice cream, Tatsuki started talking about her recent karate tournament. The words reached Orihime’s ears, but she wasn’t hearing what her best friend was saying. She had lost herself in thought again, weighing out the pros and cons of what might happen were she to chance by Urahara’s. When they ordered their ice cream, Orihime didn’t even know what flavor she picked, or even what it tasted like as she methodically ate it. She continued to reflexively participate in a conversation that she wasn’t actually in while her mind replayed fantastical scenarios over and over.

_ What would Tatsuki do? _ Orihime wondered to herself as she gazed at her best friend. She admired Tatsuki. Tatsuki was brave, and strong, and wasn’t afraid of anybody or anything. Tatsuki had no reservations with telling the world how she felt about it. And Tatsuki, the strongest, bravest person she knew, believed in Orihime.

_ You need to stop second-guessing yourself. _ Rangiku’s reassuring words resounded in Orihime’s thoughts, followed by Renji’s stern advice.  _ If you don’t have the will to do something, it ain’t gonna happen. _ It was time for Orihime to be strong. For Tatsuki. For Rangiku, for Renji, for everyone who believed in her. For herself. It was time to stand up for what she wanted instead of appeasing everyone else.

Even if it was just admitting that she had a silly little crush.

“...And then I told him… Orihime…?” Tatsuki looked on in concern as Orihime suddenly wolfed down the rest of her ice cream in a single bite, and then reeled in pain from the resulting brain freeze.

“I’m sorry, Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime apologized once she recovered, and grasped Tatsuki’s hands across the small parlor table. “I just realized there’s something I have to do.”

“Oh?” Tatsuki raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy spending time with you, I really do!” Orihime stammered defensively, rising to her feet. “I’ll um… I’ll tell you about this thing if it works out.”

“If it  _ works out? _ ” Tatsuki squeezed Orihime’s hands, reluctant to let go.

“Please, Tatsuki-chan, have faith in me,” Orihime smiled warmly, and her pleading gaze encouraged Tatsuki to slowly release her grip.

“Okay, but you’ll let me know if I’ve gotta beat someone up, promise?”

Orihime laughed. “Promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jinta and Ururu were in the shop’s yard, but too wrapped up in their own bickering to notice Orihime approaching. It was for the better; Orihime preferred that her arrival remained unannounced. She quietly slipped in through the front door as Jinta yanked on Ururu’s pigtails over a misinterpreted slight. The shop seemed to be vacant inside.

“Can I help you, Inoue-san?” Urahara’s voice came suddenly behind her, with a tone that sounded like he’d been expecting her arrival. Orihime hadn’t seen him there leaning against the wall next to the door when she came in, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Urahara-kun! You gave me such a fright!” Orihime laughed nervously, wringing her hands. Suddenly, coming here had seemed like such an awful idea. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to turn on her heels and head home instead.

“We haven’t seen you around here lately, is everything alright?” Urahara flitted his fan casually as he kicked off from the wall and approached her.

“I, um…” Glancing towards the door, and back at Urahara approaching her, she saw her window of opportunity for escape rapidly closing. Her feet seemed to be uselessly glued to the spot. “Y-yes! Everything is just fine!” She forced a smile and clasped her fidgety hands behind her back.

“You came here to see someone?” It had sounded like more of a statement than a question, and there was a twinkle in Urahara’s eyes.

“Well, a-actually…” Orihime stammered, focusing her gaze on the wood grain of the door panels.  _ How did he know? _ She panicked inwardly.  _ Is Urahara-kun psychic as well? Maybe he knows Kurosaki-kun’s father… _

“Come, come.” Urahara put an arm around Orihime’s shoulders, and gently urged her towards the back of the shop. She found that she was moving with him willingly, despite her entire being screaming for escape. For a return to her miserable comfort zone where she took no risks and acted on no impulses. “He’s downstairs,” Urahara continued, distracting Orihime from her rampant thoughts, “you’re more than welcome to interrupt his training. He could use a break anyway.”

 

* * *

“Shot of blue fire, crash down!” There was a bright flash of light, an explosion, and a cloud of debris that settled slowly.

“Howl, Zabimaru!” Another boulder nearby was laid to waste, and pieces of rock flew in all directions. Renji and Rukia were locked in a heated practice battle, each attack missing its target by mere centimeters. Orihime was hesitant to enter the training area, but Urahara had already shut the hatch behind her. She descended the steps as cautiously as she could muster, hoping her entry would go unnoticed.

“Shot of blue fire, crash down!” Rukia shouted the kidou incantation again from atop a particularly lofty precipice, discharging the blinding sphere of blue energy from the palm of her hand. “Renji, eyes up here!”

Renji had lingered as he noticed the new presence, turning his attention away from the skirmish at hand. He wasn’t able to react fast enough as the azure fireball hurtled towards him.

“Shit!” he hissed as he attempted to leap out of the way. There was an explosion as Way of Destruction Number 33 connected with his torso. When the smoke and dust cleared, Renji was sprawled out on the ground, coughing and hacking.

“That’s what you get for not paying attention!” Rukia cackled maliciously. “Anyway, I’m done for today.” She leapt down from her perch, alighting delicately some fifty or so feet below on the ground, before brushing herself off and heading towards the stairs. Renji muttered several obscenities as he pulled himself to his feet, still wheezing and coughing. His untied hair hid his face.

“Orihime-chan, so sweet of you to visit! How are you?” Rukia was suddenly saccharine as she approached Orihime at the bottom of the stairs, and threw her arms around her in a warm hug. Orihime bristled under the unwanted contact. Rukia laughed as she released the embrace. “What’s with you? Do I stink? Well, it’s not easy when you’re training with an idiot.”

“Rukia, m-maybe you shouldn’t be s-so mean,” Orihime stammered, mustering what little courage she had, “t-to Renji-kun.”

“Oh, don’t be so serious,” Rukia reproached with a chuckle, “he’s a big boy. He can handle it. We’ve been insulting each other for centuries.” She glanced back at where Renji was angrily brushing ash and dirt off of his hakama. “Hey, I’ll see you later. I’m gonna go clean up.” Rukia squeezed Orihime’s arm before bounding up the stairs out of the cellar. Orihime waited until she heard the trap door shut above before she rushed over to Renji’s side.

“Renji-kun! Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Renji snapped back, causing Orihime to recoil. He sighed and briskly ran his fingers through his hair, before tying it up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry at you. It’s just… been a long day. Never mind about that, thought… why  _ are _ you here?”

“I, um… I wanted to talk to you.” Orihime cautiously stepped a little closer, glancing back towards the stairs. She was terrified of Rukia returning soon and ruining her carefully planned and rehearsed confession. Seeing Renji now in front of her, now that she’d confronted her feelings, gave her butterflies.  _ Lots _ of butterflies. She really wished they would go away, because they were slowly eating away at her resolve.  _ I can’t do this,  _ Orihime panicked inwardly.  _ Now that I’m here, I don’t think I can do it. _

“Talk to… me?” Renji frowned, a look that wrenched Orihime’s heart. She nodded meekly. “Let’s, ah, let’s go upstairs. You never know who may be lurking around down here.”  _ I have to leave. I can’t do this… _ Orihime’s anxious thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as Renji grabbed her hand and led her upstairs.

Urahara was sitting in the dining room, sipping casually at a cup of tea and smirking knowingly. His hat, as usual, cast a shadow over his slightly downturned face, hiding his knowing eyes.

“I sent Kuchiki-san on some errands,” Urahara offered right as Renji had opened his mouth to speak. “She won’t be back for some time. In case you were wondering.”  _ What a fucking weirdo, _ Renji thought to himself as he abruptly closed his mouth. He decided it was best to just take this opportunity at face value, and not offer any of the bullshit excuses he had hastily come up with. He headed towards the spare room, Orihime in tow.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Renji asked apprehensively, shutting the door behind them.

“About um…” Orihime took a deep breath and avoided eye contact with Renji. The volume of her voice lowered substantially as she continued. “About the other day.” She wrung her hands nervously, trying to sort out her swimming thoughts.

“Aw, c’mon,” he winced slightly, as if the blurted statement had been a slap in the face. “It was an accident. I just acted without thinking and-”

“Renji-kun,” Orihime interjected, and Renji paused. At this point, the butterflies in her stomach were so bad that she felt like she was going to start vomiting winged insects at any given moment. She shifted her weight and eyed the door, but she was already at the point of no return. “I just need to know…” Closing her eyes tightly, she swallowed hard. “When you… kissed me the other day… if you… if you meant it?” Orihime reopened her eyes, and this time it was Renji’s turn to avert his gaze.

“Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and seemed more interested in the pattern of the tatami mats than anything else. Orihime had never seen him at such a loss for words before, seemingly so vulnerable and exposed. “Well, you see…” he started, biting his lip.

“If you did,” Orihime interrupted his stammering again, “if you did mean it… I would… like that.” Her mouth suddenly felt dry. How did people do this with ease? How did even people her own age saunter calmly and collectedly up to someone they fancied, and carelessly find the most perfect words to express their feelings? She would’ve loved to be one of those people right now, but instead, she was sure she sounded like a sputtering idiot. However, her mouth kept moving, and words kept pouring out of their own accord. “And, I wouldn’t mind if… if you wanted to kiss me again.”

Orihime looked up at Renji again, and this time he didn’t break his gaze. When she mentioned she’d wanted to talk about ‘the other day,’ he was wholly prepared for a huge speech about taking advantage of her kindness or something along those lines. But this, this came way out of left field. Orihime was pure and fierce and selfless, and never in all his life would he think someone like her to desire someone like him. He was the stray dog, the scrappy mongrel who had to fight for his place in the world and didn’t quite fit in anywhere.

A few endless moments of silence passed between them, neither knowing what to say. Renji was the first to break eye contact, as he searched for words he couldn’t find. Orihime felt a hot flush creep up her neck and blossom across her cheeks as a million thoughts raced through her mind. A surge of courage followed, and she stepped forward, nearly closing the distance between them. He watched her hand reach up towards his face, her delicate fingers brushing a few loosed strands of hair behind his ear. Her palm was warm, soft, inviting as it cupped his cheek, and he turned his face into her touch, closing his eyes. Renji didn’t realize how much he craved this touch, her touch. As she inched closer, their bodies barely touching, she gently urged his face to turn back towards her.

“Renji-kun…” Orihime’s voice was barely a whisper.

_ I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. _ That voice of doubt and timidity in her mind screamed this mantra over and over, but for once, she wasn’t listening. Renji became impatient with just the feel of her hot breaths on his lips, and closed the distance between them. Orihime’s heart soared, her hands entangling themselves in his red tresses and freeing them from the loose ponytail as she pulled him deeper into the kiss. She felt his rough hands at her waist as he pulled her body flush against his.

Suddenly, the hands on Orihime’s hips were now on her shoulders, pushing her away. The lips she had been kissing were torn away from her. She opened her eyes, and Renji was holding her back at an arm’s length, a pained look on his face.

“No,” he stated firmly, shaking his head. “I can’t… we can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

“But, Renji-kun…” Orihime searched his face, unable to say anything else.  _ This was a bad idea,  _ she thought as a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.  _ I should have just stayed with Tatsuki-chan. I should have listened to her talk about her karate tournament instead of daydreaming. I really wish I remembered what flavor ice cream I got. _

“Look, Orihime, if you’re wondering if I like you, I do. A lot. You’re beautiful, funny, smart, nice… everything I could ask for in a girl. Honestly, in a perfect world, it wouldn’t even be a question. But-”

“It’s because I’m not a shinigami?” Orihime asked warily.

“No, no. It’s not that.” Renji rubbed his forehead.

“It’s because I’m not Rukia.” She hadn’t wanted to say it, but somehow, it was said. Renji hesitated, and Orihime knew the answer before he even admitted it.

“Yeah, sorta,” he muttered. “It’s just… we had a thing. A long time ago. I’m kind of… still in love with her, I guess.” Renji laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know why I’m tellin’ ya this. I never told anyone and it sounds so stupid now that I said it out loud. Look I’m just sayin’ I don’t want you to feel like a replacement, ya know?”

“I know,” Orihime replied softly, shrugging apathetically. “I know all of that, all of those feelings. Probably better than you’d think.”

“Orihime, please don’t take it that way,” Renji grasped her shoulders, looking her in the face. “It’s not you at all. It’s me. I just haven’t been involved with anyone in a long time and I don’t wanna hurt you and-”

“Renji-kun.” His words faded out as she searched his eyes, her gaze trailing over his facial features before she looked away. Her expression betrayed hurt, but underneath was a calm resolve. Orihime’s fears had settled, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts carefully. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t feeling meek and indecisive. “Please stop protecting me. I’m never going to learn anything if no one lets me live my life. I can’t be strong if nobody lets me fight. Everyone thinks I’m this fragile person...” She swallowed thickly as her voice wavered. “And I’m not. I want this, Renji-kun. Even if it ends up being the wrong choice, I want you.”

Renji was moved to tears. He didn’t deserve Orihime’s friendship, let alone this. He gathered her up into a warm embrace, which took her by surprise, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She melted into him, snaking her arms around his wide back. No words were exchanged in those few moments, but everything was said.

“Thanks for believing in me,” Renji released Orihime and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. A small smile returned to her face, much to his relief. For a while, he was worried her ability to be happy was lost forever. “Hey, it sounds like Tessai is starting up dinner. You should stay and eat with us. I insist.”

“I would love to, Renji-kun,” Orihime laughed, tucking her head under Renji’s chin as he pulled her in for another hug. She closed her eyes and sighed. “And thank you for believing in me.” 


End file.
